


The Dreamer

by cersedshadow



Series: 12 days of Lance [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: #Lancemas2019, F/M, Gen, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cersedshadow/pseuds/cersedshadow
Summary: Day 1: The Dreamer‘It’s dangerous baby. You’re not a bird.’‘I wanna be! Then I could go anywhere and fly so high!’The dreams of small boys don't often come true, but sometimes the universe has a strange way of giving us what we want. Even when we didn't know we wanted it.Especially then.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Lance's Family (Voltron), Lance & Voltron Paladins
Series: 12 days of Lance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612639
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	The Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posting on Ao3 and the first in a series of 12 one-shots centred around Lance of the Blue Lion but involving the rest of the Voltron crew. The shots are generally set in cannon universe with a few changes here and there and are not, for the most part, interconnected. though characters do keep popping up from time to time. 
> 
> I was inspired to write these by the #Lancemas2019 prompts i saw on Tumbler. So I hope you enjoy and please leave comments. Even if its just to point out any errors. I will be trying to post a day every week but make no promises.

Lance had always wanted to fly. Ever since he was young. When family and teachers would ask him what he dreamed of being he would answer without hesitation, a big grin on his face. Not once did his dream change. The stories changed, about how he was going to be a dashing rogue pirate pilot, flying all over the world to rescue people and have adventures. To how he was going to be the first person to land on Jupiter, on Saturn’s rings, first person outside the solar system. To how he was going to have his own privet jet, so quick it could take him all the way around the world in seconds and everyone would want him to fly them places.

Certainly, the stories changed all the time, but not his dream. Not once. It had been such a pervasive ambition, such an ingrained desire that Lance himself wasn’t even sure where it came from. There was no great turning point, no flash of inspiration, no awe-inspiring revelation to explain his longing for the skies. He simply wanted to fly. Thus he dreamed of becoming a pilot, ever since he understood what one of those was. Before that he wanted to be a bird. 

It was a strange dream to some. Not because young boys didn’t dream big but for one who seemed to love the ocean so much it was odd that he seemed to ache to escape it. Many a person asked if he wouldn’t prefer to be a diver or a swimmer instead. To play to his strengths. His family though couldn’t be more supportive. When he was really young this support was simple and filled little Lances heart with a light, happy feeling. His family was the source of his faith and they fed his dream until it was live thing within him.

‘Papa higher! Faster! Papa go faster!’ screamed the four-year-old. Chubby tummy held securely in the broad leathery palms of his father. Arms and legs spread eagle, screaming with delight as the man spun him round and round on the beach. Salty wind whipping through his hair and making his eyes sting. Excitement bursting out of him in high pitched squeals. ‘Higher Papa!’

His Papa laughed his deep booming laugh and continued to spin. ‘I can’t go any higher’ he cried in mirth, spinning the boy as fast as he could. Getting dizzy himself and slipping in the loose sand.

‘Slow down Miguel, you’re going to drop him’ scolded the women standing by. Shorter than her husband but skin a deep drown, golden hewed in the sun. Her long auburn hair was tied in a messy bun and her hands placed firmly on her hips as she looked at the pair. 

With a grunt of effort the man stopped spinning, swaying slightly where he stood as his dizziness crept up to him. The little four-year-old pouted, wanting to keep spinning, but obediently ran over to his mother. Being scooped up into her arms a moment later. ‘But Mama, I wanna fly! I wanna go faster!’

‘It’s dangerous baby. You’re not a bird.’

‘I wanna be! Then I could go anywhere and fly so high!’ The child threw his small limbs wide to emphasise his point, encompassing the periwinkle sky. His mother smiled at him, not at all affected by his enthusiastic squirming. Gently she soothed the wild hair from his brow and kissed him. It calmed Lance almost instantly and he looped his chubby arms round her neck, kissing her cheek in return. For a moment he played with his mama’s gold dangling earrings, watching the small sea glass beads refract the setting sun into rainbows. 

In a much smaller, sleepier voice he whispered into his mother shoulder while his farther shouted to gather the rest of the family in preparation for leaving the beach. ‘I wanna fly mama.’

‘Oh darling. You will. You will’ his mother soothed. The platitudes of a tired loving parent ingrained into his small mind. Granting faith to a dream that would stay with him always. 

Dream: fly, be happy.

As Lance grew his dream grew with him. He would be a pilot! The best pilot ever! Then, when he was eleven, he saw an advertisement for the Galaxy Garrison. Front a centre was an American-Japanese man. He was flying a sleek jet. Weaving it between spires or rock and obstacles like it was an extension of his being. Leaving behind vapour trails in the sky and awe in Lance heart. Soaring higher and higher until he had left earth all together. The planet a sparkling jewel in a wide cosmos. Haloed by the glimmer of atmosphere. It took Lances breath away; it made his dream concrete, certain. It gave him direction. 

He would go there. He would attend the Galaxy Garrison where this amazing pilot was and he too would see the earth from above. He would go on all sorts of adventures, with Takashi Shirogane and others. Be the best pilot ever. Go further than anyone else had ever been. Everyone would want to fly with him. And he would be able to fly anywhere. Anywhere he wanted. 

Lance had near burst from excitement. Telling absolutely everyone and anyone his plans. His mama, his papa, his older siblings, friends, teachers, the neighbours, the tourists that visited his uncle’s pizza shop. Anyone that would listen. He was Lance McClain and he was going to go to the Galaxy Garrison in Arizona and become a pilot Most of the people he told just laughed. Not meanly, but in a way that made it clear they were indulging a child. They would ruffle his hair and tell him it was a nice dream and move on. Like Lance wasn’t burning on the inside. Like his mind wasn’t alight with dreams of the future. Vivid and consuming.

His family knew to take him more seriously. Knew just how he had had his heart set on flight from the very beginning. They supported him but were aware of the challenges Lance was placing himself in. Unlike him they understood how hard it would be. They told him to be realistic, to not be discouraged. That it would be hard. Young Lance though hadn’t really listened. He had simply wanted it too much for his dream not to come true. At least not until he got his first failing grade in English later that year. Until he looked at the requirements to get into the Garrison and realised that he didn’t measure up. It was a devastating realisation to have. 

For the first time Lances dream was distressing instead of exhilarating. He threw himself into his studies, giving up days at the beach and playing with friends and swim club to study math, science and english. English was the one that he struggled with. Lance liked talking, he liked people and he had a lot to say. All the time. It made learning a language wholly from books and audio tapes difficult. His tongue tripping up over the unusual pronunciation. Words slurring into themselves, mind spinning to quickly for his mouth to catch up. The frustration at his inability to articulate himself soured the rest of his accomplishments. He tried and tried and tried, and still after months of studying amount to nothing but a lousy D on his tests. He was practically distraught with stress and worry. 

His mama and papa had tried to comfort him but Lance wasn’t having it. It was the first time in his life he truly felt like a failure. That he, himself, was simply incapable, to useless to achieve his dream. The first night he cried and went to hide in the barn, preferring the must darkness of solitude to the confronting arms of his family. After that he became more and more withdrawn and more and more obsessed. Wanting to listen to his audio tapes over and over again, scrambling to use the family computer to watch YouTube videos on pronunciation. Snapping at his siblings, being rude to his parents and ignoring his visiting relatives. 

It was the last that really got him in trouble. His Mama had been sympathetic so far but his Uncle Leo and his family had come all the way from Florida for the family gathering. The first time in a couple of years his Mama got to see her brother in person and Lance was not going to mope around like a little toe rag and ruin the celebration. Not on her watch.

He was dragged, sulking and seething, from his hidey hole into the sun. The great yellow orb warming his parched skin immediately. With all the time he spent indoors his tan had suffered, and he could feel the heat seeping into him. A call to put some sunscreen on if he didn’t want to suffer peeling shoulders by the end of the day. He was dragged around by his Mama like a surly accessory, to be introduced to everyone. The rest of the family, his siblings, aunts, uncles, older and younger cousins were having a good time. The industrial sized BBQ serving them well and the max sized paddling pool and sprinkler set proving very entertaining. 

‘Say hello Lance’ snapped him Mama, patience worn thin.

‘Hi, Uncle Leo’ he muttered out. Eyes firmly on the ground. Thin bony shoulders up to his ears in indignation. 

His Uncle shared a suffering look with his mother over his head. She just sighed and rolled her eyes. Lance felt betrayed. 

‘Hiya Lance. Man, you sure grew huh?’

‘I guess so’ he grumbled. He was the shortest kid in his class by two inches.

‘Having fun at school?’

Lance heaved a put-upon sigh and rolled his own eyes, ‘yes Uncle Leo.’ His uncle laughed and his Mama made an unhappy noise at his rudeness. Honestly, didn’t they realise he had better things to do? That none of this mattered? He could be studying right now!

Having fulfilled his minimal social duties Lance thought he now had the grounds to defy his Mama and return to his books. As he did so, saying a half-mumbled goodbye to his Uncle he heard the older man huff a laugh and his Mama apologised for his behaviour.

‘Hah, they’re all like that at his age. My Lanna’s the same. Always on her phone, never has the time for boring adults.’

Lance felt kind of offended by that. He wasn’t just being ‘like that’! His problems were actually important. Whatever, his uncle just didn’t get it. What did he matter? Lance slipped off to his bedroom, seeking privacy. He had bribed Rachael into leaving him alone earlier that week by promising to do her laundry and was eager to use the few hours he would get to go through his reference books. 

However, upon returning to his den of solitude he found it had already inhabited. Lance didn’t immediately recognise the older girl in his bed. This was not too much of a surprise to him. With so many people invited to the celebration, bringing friends and relatives from all over the place, strangers were generally invited and welcomed. Considering it was a family BBQ there was an 80% chance he was in some way related to the unknown person. That knowledge didn’t absolutely nothing to stop him voicing his indignation at the invasion of his space. This was his room! Those were his books they were carelessly flipping through! 

‘That’s mine!’ he stomped over. Intending to snatch the book from their hands. 

Evidently having siblings themselves they reacted instantly, jumping onto the bed and holding the book as high as they could while keeping Lance at a distance with the other hand. Classic older, taller sibling move. And annoying effective unless Lance wanted to get down to the real nitty gritty tackle them from the bed. 

‘Give it back!’ he screamed, jumping onto the bed himself but simply not having the height to grab the book from the older girl. Curse his short arms! 

‘What’s this brat, trying to learn to talk like us yanks?’ the girls asked in heavily accented Spanish. Lance had to pause a moment to parse out the words from the mangling of the language. It did tell him that this was most likely one of his Uncle Leos kids. He was the only one permanently living in America, as far as Lance knew. Meaning the mystery girl was one of his many older cousins. 

‘It’s for school!’

‘Thought you were on break? Does your school even teach English?’

‘That doesn’t matter. Just give it back. I need it!’

‘Well maybe you should come and get it’ they taunted. That was all the encouragement Lance needed. Those words were death con 4 in sibling commentary and meant everything was now on the table. Before the girl had even thought to sprint for the door Lance was yodelling out a war cry and throwing himself at them to take them out at the waist. They yelped and only just prevented smacking their head on the wall as they went down. However, they soon retaliated, shoving at his head with their feet and scrambling to sit on him. Lance fought back as well as he could. Stuffed toys flying everywhere, casualties of their tussle.

With a lurching sensation they both fell from the bed, dragging the sheets with them as they tangled up around their legs. Like most scuffles the fight was short but brutal and ended abruptly when, both of them with a hand on the book, ended up tearing out a handful of crumpled pages right from the middle. The destruction of the prize brought a pause to their fighting and Lance could do nothing but look at the damaged pages, half hanging from his reference book. An expensive present his family had given him. The thing he had asked for on his birthday instead of a new skateboard like the rest of his friends. 

At that point Lance isn’t even sure what came over him. It was the final straw. The anger and frustration at his failure, the distress of losing his dream, the misery of his own stupidity, it all bubbled over. He teared up instantly but the first feeling to come boiling to the surface was anger. The tantrum started with him angrily cursing and ripping the rest of the pages from the book, scattering them about him like particularly shitty confetti and ended up with his tears dripping onto his clenched fists. Both hands pressed firmly to his eyes to try and force himself to stop sobbing. 

‘Whoa, whoa. Calm down. Hay stop that. I said stop that!’ shouted the girl, snatching the rest of the book from him. This, however, didn’t do anything to stop the tears. Perhaps noticing this the girl put the book down and scooted closer. ‘Hay kid, don’t cry. Come on, please. It’s just a textbook.’

This however just made Lance cry harder. Cause it wasn’t just a textbook. That was his dream right there, hanging in the balance. His one true lasting desire. His future. He needed those textbooks. He needed to get better at English. Next year he would have the chance to apply for the Garrisons early entry program, and he needed to get in! All the best pilots went to the programme. Got the leg up over the normal entrants. Even his hero Takashi Shirogane was an early entrant!

Lance started crying harder, ‘I-I needed that! I needed that! I need to..to get better. To learn english.’ Desperately he started trying to gather up the ripped pages, smooth them out on the wooden floor. Whipping his tears he struggled to read the sentence through the crinkles. ‘I can-can’t fail. I can’t!’ but he couldn’t read the sentence. The words meant nothing to him and he could hear the mangling of the pronunciation as he tried to speak them out loud. Could practically feel his future slipping away. ‘I got too; I’ve got to learn! I need to fly!’

‘Hay, hay it’s okay kid, it’s okay. Look, you can put the pages back. They’re not that damaged. Just a few staples and it will be good as new. Come on don’t cry! Everyone’s gonna blame me for it. Why do you need to learn English anyway? It’s no big deal.’

‘I need it!’ sobbed Lance. ‘I need it to fly. To get into the Garrison.’

‘Hay come on its alright. It’s alright.’ His cousin soothed him, running her hand up and down his back as Lance began to calm down. With the calming of his tears he could feel the flush of embarrassment rising on his face. What was he doing? Crying like that. He wasn’t a baby! He let his cousin gather the pages as Lance wiped his face. Eventually he found himself with a number of hastily flattened pages shuffled hastily into the correct order. Lance ran his hands over the paper, wondering what to do now. The normal empty full feeling he got after crying hollowing him out.

His cousin shuffled awkwardly next to him. Leaning back against the bed and knocking their shoulders together. She gave him a small smile but Lance didn’t return it. He could hear the laughter and the chatter from outside, the sun valiantly spilling in through gaps in the blind. Striping the floor and igniting the dust motes. 

‘So kid, what’s your name?’

‘Lance.’

‘Oh so your Auntie Rosa’s kid. You must be the one who wants to be a pilot. I heard Dad and Auntie talking about it.’

‘That’s me’ Lance mumbled dispassionately. ‘It’s not going to happen though. Cause I don’t understand shitty english!’ 

‘Come on. I’m sure you’ll get it. Just got to keep trying.’

‘But I won’t!’ cried Lance, jumping to his feet to pace up and down the small room. Waving the destroyed book in the air. ‘I won’t get it! I’ve listened to every tape. I’ve read every book. I’ve watched all the videos. And I Still. Don’t. Get. It!’ So saying he threw the book to the ground. It made a satisfying thwap sound and he stood heaving over it. Slowly, the frustration left him and Lance collapsed into himself. Deflating like a balloon to crumple to the ground. ‘Why can’t I get it?’ he whispered, voice small.

‘Well maybe your just need someone to talk to. Like, I know I learn way more Spanish talking to you lot than I do in class. All these books and the tapes and stuff really suck at teaching. Come on, I’ll help you, since I tore your book and all. Talk to me in english.’

‘Wait, what?’ asked Lance taken aback by the turn of the conversation.

‘Ap, bub, bub, bub. No spanish! You can only speak englsih. Ask me again, or I won’t respond.’

‘Er, right, right. Umm, what? Who-Who, what is your name?’ Lance replied, struggling to make his brain switch tracks and speak in english. While his accent could do with a lot of work he could manage basic introductions.

‘Right, good. I’m Lanna.’

‘My name is Lance,’ he replied robotically. Lanna rolled her eyes grandly. 

‘Yeah, no duh. I know. And no one says ‘my name is’ like that. Just say your name. Erg, this is gonna take a long time’ the older girl complained, huffing. 

She stayed though, all throughout the afternoon, all through eating the BBQ prepared by the family and all through the after party. For the rest of the time Lanna visited the McClains Lanna and Lance were inseparable. She complained about him nonstop, saying he was too loud, too dweeby, criticising his accent his formal way of speaking. ‘Are you a grandpa, the bloody Queen of England?’ She would mock, the complaints nonstop. Every time Lance crinkled his brow and snapped back only to get a blank look in return, a finger twiddled in an ear and a ‘I swear I could hear something? Is there a breeze in here?’ in return. At least until he managed to coax his older cousin David into teaching him some english swear words and could fight back.

For a week Lance spoke almost exclusively to Lanna, using all the english he knew and demanding phrases and words from his uncle, cousins and older siblings when needed to continue the argument. When Lanna returned to Florida a week later it wasn’t before leaving Lance her skype address and setting one up for him as well. Less than twenty-four hours later she was calling him to shout about all the sand he had stuffed into her socks. She became his best and most angry friend and while his writing and grammar could still be better Lance no longer worried about his grades.

Dream: become a pilot, fly, be happy.

Things had got better with his grades. The constant studying paid off; he started working smarter as well as harder. Playing to his strengths and managing his time. He was less snappy, took up swimming again to work off his frustrations, and found a new interest in Mary Shelly from the grade above. With her smooth straight hair, three inches on him and chocolate coloured skin. Lance felt on top of the world.

He got into the early entrance programme, though his Mama wasn’t to happy at the thought of him leaving home, even temporarily, a year earlier than expected. Lance, of course, was beyond excited. Through the roof was elation. He had planned everything he was going to pack months in advance. Had read and re-read the flight manual and his aerodynamic textbooks. He dreamed of nothing else but the Arizona heat, the friends he would make, the simulators he would fly. This was it. His first taste of the sky! His first step on his dream.

Until it all came crashing down. 

Newly thirteen years old and a month until he would fly away from his family for the first time, his little brother got into a cycling accident and broke his arm. Shattered it more like. After the initial heart stopping panic, the rush to A&E for the whole family, a number of tears and a mountain of x-rays it was found that he would need surgery a bit more serious than a simple cast. They were going to need to set it by drilling in a lot of metal pins stick it back together. Which came with a cost.

His papa tried to break the news to Lance slowly, to keep his brother in mind. Lance was incandescent with rage though, feeling his hard work, his blood sweat and tears, drain away to nothing. His dream a distant prospect once more. Like a mirage melting away in the desert. Leaving him bereft and longing. 

‘But what about my future! My dream! It’s not my fault the little twit doesn’t know how to ride a bike properly.’ This, understandably, hadn’t gone down well with his parents.

‘Don’t you talk about your brother like that! Your brother needs the surgery Lance, he might not be able to use the arm if he doesn’t get it. That’s more important than your flight camp!’

‘It’s not a stinking camp! It’s a serious flight class for future pilots! If it don’t go they’ll never let me in.’

‘Plenty of students get into the flight program without going to the summer school Lance’ responded him mamma. Taking a much calmer approach than his Papa, who was just about at the end of his rope with Lances outbursts.

‘Yeah, for lousy cargo pilots! Not fighter pilots! Do you want me to fail? Is that it? You never were happy with me going away. You just want to keep me hear don’t you?!’

‘You be quiet young man. Do you know what your mother and I had to do to get the money for your fancy camp? The sacrifices we had to make? Your brothers getting that surgery Lance, and I’m sorry but that means you can’t go to your flight school. We’ve already phoned them to cancel your spot and get the refund.’

‘You what!?’ screamed Lance, staring at his Papa in disbelief. Had they really done that? Had he already lost his place? Without them even asking him! ‘Phone them back! You can’t do this!’

‘I can and we have. Come on Lance, Ali really needs this’ explained his Papa, eyes ringed with worry and stress.

‘Fuck Ali! He deserves it!’ cried Lance back, clamping down on his trembling bottom lip. He was so angry. So infuriated. Everything he worked for, gone. Just cause his lousy little brother couldn’t ride a bike right.

‘Lance!’ admonished his mother. ‘We don’t use that word. Apologise!’

‘No, fuck you! I hate you too! You’ve always loved him more than me. I bet you’re glad you don’t have to pay for flight school!’

‘That’s it!’ roared his Papa, long past the end of his rope. ‘Go to your room! If you’re going to talk to us like that then you won’t go to flight school no matter what. You’re grounded! ’

‘I hate you!’ cried Lance as he ran to his room. Slamming the door as hard as he could behind him. Only once he had proper solitude did he break down and cry. Angrily kicking the bed and throwing the pillows around. Furious.

Lance was grounded for a long time. Past the end of the school year and into the summer break. On the day he would have flown of to Arizona he spent the whole day in his room. Refusing to talk to anyone. He never did apologise to his Mama or Papa but they forgave him anyway. With hugs and hair ruffles and tired sighs. With shoulder squeezes and forehead kisses that spoke of how sorry they were and how proud of him they were when he took it on himself to be his brother’s hands for the holidays and didn’t leave his side. Lance was grateful, though he never said that either. More than anything, once the anger had faded, he was guilty.

The only place other than school Lance had been allowed to go while grounded had been the hospital. Where his brother was being held before his surgery. Lance hated it. Not only was it noisy with six patients to a ward, it smelled funny and there was nothing to do and no wi-fi for guests. His older siblings were sometimes there but most of the time they had things to do. Attending college, revising for their last exams or off for their own holiday adventures with friends. Often it was just Lance, and his Mama and Papa.

During those early visits Lances hadn’t done much to mask his dissatisfaction. When his Mama and Papa had gone with a nurse out the room to talk about the surgery happening in a few days time Lance had remained, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place. 

‘Lance…Lance’ a longer pause, ‘Lance!’ called Ali.

Lance wanted to ignore him but he had never been very good at giving anyone the silent treatment. ‘What?’ he snapped. Not even turning to look.

‘… are you mad?’ came the quiet enquiry. Lance did turn then. Looking into his little brothers brown watery eyes. He was swamped on the bed, blankets piled high around his feet and damaged arm. A heavy duty cast stopping him moving it from its fluffy elevation. A drop was in his other hand, to provide pain killers when needed. Lance didn’t even like thinking about the cold needle in Ali’s thin, fragile hand. 

‘I’m not mad’ he lied.

‘I’m sorry you won’t get to go to flight school’ said Ali sincerely. That was the worst. The fact that he was sincere about it. Lance had been bragging to Ali the entire time how awesome flight school would be. How awesome Lance would be. That his big brother was going to become a hero and be on TV and bring him back the coolest souvenir ever. To the point where Ali had been almost as excited as Lance. The whispered apology, the horrible noise and smell of the hospital, the sad brown eyes in a chubby baby face, almost identical to Lances own, had his anger drain out of him. 

No, not drain away, thought Lance. He was still disappointed, still angry. Why couldn’t Ali just be careful?! Why did he have to try and do something cool and crash? Instead the anger faded, not in intensity, but importance. Insignificant compared to the welling of affection and love Lance felt for his stupid little brother. Of course Lance didn’t hate Ali, not at all, not for a moment. Of course he would give up his place in flight school for his brother. He would do it for any of his family. A hundred times over. 

Lance uncrossed his arms and reached over to ruffle his little brothers hair. ‘It’s okay’ he said, meaning it this time. ‘It was an accident. Can’t be helped. I’ll just have to show them how awesome I am when I go for real.’

‘One more year right?’ 

‘Yep’ replied Lance, popping the P. Trying not to think of the looming threat of entrance exams. Now that he was no longer so immersed in his own misery Lance noticed just how thin his brother was looking. The glaze to his eyes and the greasy shine to his hair.  
‘So you ready to become a cyborg?’ Lance joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Instead of replying his brother just bit his lip and Lance was startled to see his eyes go moist with unshed tears. ‘Hay, don’t cry. What’s wrong?’ 

Being careful of the hospital equipment Lance managed to perch himself on the edge of the bed, legs digging uncomfortably to the railings, and bring his baby brother into a careful hug. Ali immediately pushed his face into his chest, hiccupping slightly when it moved his arm. His good arm came up to grip the back of Lances shirt. The tighter he gripped the harder Lance held him. Making shushing noises and brushing back his hair and along his back.

‘Shhhh, common champ. It’ll be alright. Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m not mad anymore alright.’

‘’m scared’ whisper Ali, the damp patch on Lances shirt growing. Lance felt himself become flooded with guilt. Here he had been sulking and yelling about not getting to go to flight school while his little brother was going to get an serious operation. Had been sitting worrying and scared in silence not knowing what was going to happen. Who might even loose his whole freaking arm! The seriousness of it all suddenly felt much too heavy and Lance bent to tuck his face to his little brothers hair, exhaling shakily. He gripped the boy to him fiercely.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know, it’s alright. You don’t need to be scared. Everything’s going to be alright. You’ll see. The doctors will make you all better and you’ll be a super cool cyborg. Hay, I’m sure we could ask them to put in, like, lasers or something! Or wolverine claws! Wouldn’t that be awesome?’

His precious little brother laughed wetly but Lance himself now had tears threatening to fall. He felt the thin shoulders tremble in his grasp, the knobbly bones of Ali’s spine as he sucked in heavy breaths, the warmth of his body pushed against him as it had been many a night when he crawled into Lances bed after a nightmare. Lance grumbled about those incidents too but never turned him away. He was his one and only precious little brother and Lance had failed him. To busy feeling angry to notice how much Ali needed him. Needed him to stand by his side, assure him everything would be alright and be strong. Needed him to help lift the heavy shadows from those thin shoulders. 

‘I’m sorry’ his voice cracked with emotion. ‘I’m sorry. It’ll be alright. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere don’t you worry. I love you.’

Sniffing Ali pulled his blotchy face back to look Lance in the eye, whipping at his cheeks. ‘Promise? You’ll stay?’

‘I’ll be right outside the surgery room buddy, don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere. So don’t you worry about a thing.’ Lance replied, whipping the rest of the tears off his brother face. Ali simply nodded once, exhausted from his crying fit and slumped into Lance’s chest. Lance pulled him close and let him get comfortable. Unwilling to let go himself. He had a lot to make up for.

Ali got better of course. He went into surgery, came out slightly loopy and confused and with a huge metal contraption around the cast of his arm to lug around for the rest of the summer. Something Lance didn’t let him miss out on. Helping his brother get around the house, to the beach, to the arcade, wherever he wanted to go. Playing board games and video games for hours, until Ali himself was almost sick of him. With time the last of the anger dried and determination took its place in Lances heart. It would be even harder now to become a fighter pilot. Other people would have had the leg up that he didn’t; but that didn’t stop Lance for aiming for his dream.

Between studying for the entrance exams, helping his brother, swim competitions and trying to work out a means to ask Mary Shelly to the end of school year dance (for some reason none of the awesome lines he found online were working!) Lance was kept busy. When finally, sitting in the warm sun speckled kitchen with his parents and the rest of his siblings anxiously watching, Lance, fingers trembling, opened the letter that would seal his fate. The words Galaxy Garrison, Arizona and the unique winged crest emblazoned on the front in bright burning orange. 

The warm, cramped kitchen in Cuba held its breath as the bread continued to bake, waiting in anticipation for the news. Lance skimmed down the letter, anxiously taking it all in. Dear Lance McClain, thank you for your application blah, blah, blah. We are pleased to inform you we will be delighted to offer you a place in the Galaxy Garrison this coming academic year in the foundation to flight class…

He got in. He got in! With a shout Lance launched himself off his chair and into the air. Lunging for the nearest person, his older brother Marco, with an ear splitting scream. Marco caught him no problem and there was a sudden scramble to get the letter. Lances excited babbling too incomprehensible to work out. Veronica snatched it from his flailing hand just as he got the presence of mind to start using real words.

‘I got in! I got in! I’m gonna be a pilot!’ he screamed, squirming out of Marcos hold to be smothered joyously by his mother. 

‘You got the scholarship too!’ shouted Veronica. Having actually read the letter to the end. This elicited even more joy from his parents. Flight school in the US wouldn’t be cheap but with scholarship it was doable. Lance knew his parents had been putting aside money for his schooling. That his Mama had picked up extra commissions which led to her sewing long into the night and his dad had put in more hours at the mechanics. Smothered in his families’ warmth Lance couldn’t stop smiling. His siblings all hugged him to, Ali extra hard, and his friends were almost just as excited when he told them at school. Even Mary seemed impressed and agreed to come to the celebratory party his family were setting up on the beach.

Dream: be awesome, become a pilot, fly, be happy.

This was it. Everything he had worked for. Everything he had always wanted. His path to fulfilling his dream to fly. To becoming a pilot. Lance couldn’t wait. In his head a movie real started playing, featuring Lance, the star prodigy pilot. Best the Garrison had ever seen. His instructors and peers would be so impressed. He would be asked to fly the real jets straight away. All the girls would want to go out with him and all the guys would want to be his friend. He would blow them all away and fly free through the stars! It was going to be great!

…So maybe that wasn’t exactly how it went. The Galaxy Garrison was big. Much bigger than Lance had envisioned and something about it being over an hour from the nearest town and in the middle of the desert just seemed to emphasise that size rather than diminish it. Going from his small town in Cuba, with its small local school and laid back approach to life, to a small town sized semi-military base was one hell of a shock to the system. To put it mildly. 

The excitement got him through the first few weeks no problem. Through the tedium of induction week with all its health and safety talk. Through introducing himself to everyone in the class and getting scolded for being too loud and not saluting properly etc. However, excitement wasn’t enough to chase away the homesickness that set in. He missed his family, he missed the Cuban sun, which while hot and scorching had always come with a refreshing breeze from the sea and the smell of BBQ and baked bread. The Arizona sun was not like that. It burned high and distant and took no prisoners, scorching you red for the merest infraction. Outside there was nothing but rocks and sand which stung the eyes and irritated the throat and got everywhere! 

Lance called home often, using the computer his family had saved up for to skype in with his siblings, his parents, his friends, Lanna in Florida. Any familiar face he could think of. His roommate, having grown up in Arizona and not feeling the distance stretching between him and his birth place was less than sympathetic. Complaining about Lance whining all the time and keeping him up all night. He even complained about him speaking Spanish. Going on about all the Mexicans and how they were better staying where they came from. Lance pointing out he was from Cuba, not Mexico, didn’t improve the situation.

Then there were the classes. Lance had thought he had got good at English. Thought he had moved past that hurdle in his life; but this was apparently untrue. There was a big difference between being able to speak English with Lanna, who forgave him for his odd slip and habit of forgetting connecting words and thought nothing of his accent, and speaking English in the Garrison. 

Not only did the instructors snap any time he missed a word and snickers arise about his accent but he was missing out on the material as well. Understanding what the instructors were saying when they were speaking at a break neck pace, using scientific language, to which there was no clear translation, left Lance missing entire sentences at times as he struggled to parse out the previous ones. Not only that but the instructors liked to check their note books and insisted that everything be written in English too. More than once Lance got scolded to improve his handwriting if he wanted to be a pilot. The instructors citing that it was necessary if he ever wanted to be taken seriously.

All this only made his homesickness worse and frustrated Lance to no end. Six months in and the Garrison wasn’t the dream place he thought it would be. The instructors hadn’t been blown away by his talents, rather the opposite, and they hadn’t even touched a simulator yet. Let alone a plane!

Still Lance was no quitter and he struggled through. The thought of flying driving him forwards. Besides his family had given so much to get him there and while he was sure they had figured out it wasn’t all roses , what with how often he called them and sent messages, not once could he bring himself to complain about it. Well, other than about his roommate and the terrible food, which were both abominations and deserved all the shade he could throw at them. His family had given so much to get him here, supported him all the way. Even the thought of complaining, of wanting to quit, filled Lance with shame. So he hunched his shoulders, worked hard into the early hours of the night re-writing his notes so they were neat, reading ahead in his text books so he might be able to understand what was going on in class, even if he missed a sentence or two, and practicing every early morning on improving his accent. His habit of singing in the shower certainly helped and kept his spirits up.

Then, over six months in, it was finally like everything had been worth it. They got to fly the simulator for the first time. Everything they had learned would finally be put into practice. It had been exhilarating, it had been exhausting. Lance was one part thrilled at the feeling (if fake) of flying a jet through the sky and one part terrified of the watchful eyes of the instructors. Baring down on him at all times. Causing the sweat on the back of his neck to run cold. He couldn’t forget the need to do everything by the book. To be perfect in every way, flip every switch just so, and keep in tight formation. Couldn’t just let loose and enjoy it all. His dream coming true. 

Which only made it all the more grating when some broody, holier-than-thou stuck up Keith Kogane completely disregarded the flight formation and zoomed off on his own without so much as a by your leave. Apparently not giving a flying fuck to what the instructors would do to him. It was salt rubbed into the wound when the boy got little more than an half hearted admonishment to stay in formation next time and was then praised, praised!, for his fine flying. By the end of the class Lance was seething and decided he hated the smug bastard, who didn’t even seem to hear, let alone care, about what the instructors were saying. He decided then and there he was determined to beat the asshole at his own game. He said as much to Hunk, a student who wanted to specialise in engineering and who Lance had shared a few friendly conversations with. Hunk didn’t seem to agree with him quite so vehemently but didn’t say anything to dissuade Lance’s new burning hatred either.

Hating Keith Kogane was exactly what Lance needed to keep him focused and push him into his second wind. Reigniting his spirit and pushing him to give 110% in his final exams. Suddenly his calls home contained less melancholy feelings and more ‘can you believe this!’ ranting. His siblings poked fun at him and shared some meaningful looks with each other but played along. His mother tried to get him to talk to this boy, that maybe they could be friends, but Lance was having none of it and his farther merely told him to concentrate on his school work and commiserated about the bland white people food. At least Lanna got it. She was fully down with ranting about asshole boys who think their better than everyone else after having been turned down by her crush. She and Lance had many a great and interesting conversations while they plotted their respective revenge.

Then final exams hit and Lance was swept up in a storm of sleepless nights and coffee smuggling as he desperately prepared. He reviewed everything twice over. Practiced his presentation slides and did all visualisation exercises he could think of to prepare him for the simulator. Lance came out of every exam faintly shaking with caffeine and sweating with nervousness. The flight exam was about a thousand times worse, Lance being able to pin point every little mistake he made along the way and second guessing himself constantly. Did he flip those switches in sequence? Did he wait too long to long to balance the pressure? Was his take off to slow? His landing to rough? Lance didn’t know and the waiting was killing him.

Though the wait didn’t feel near as bad as when he saw the results. The Garrison still using the old and outdated method of posting all the student results publicly, supposedly as some way of encouraging them to do better. Lance just felt it was to humiliate those who didn’t make it. Just one look at the list and he could feel his face drain of colour. His heart rattled hollowly in grief. 

There, under ‘Fighter Pilot Class’ his name was conspicuously absent. 

He hadn’t made the cut. Relegated to cargo class. To forgotten second place. To never fly freely through the skies and explore. All that hard work, his dream, for nothing.

After that harrowing realisation, the sadness and the frustrate anger, came the shame. So deep set it filled him to the brim and made his chest ache. How could he tell his family? That everything they had sacrificed, that everything he had sacrificed, that leaving home to travel half way around the world, was all for nothing. That he had failed. Come a distant second best once again. That he was never going to be the pilot he said he would be. Never the son they could be proud off. 

Lance avoided telling his family for the few short weeks he was still at the Garrison. He avoided calling them, putting them off with every excuse he could think of. Kept himself busy with packing and goodbyes and any last moment of simulator practice he could get. Going over and over his exams to see where he went wrong. He went through the motions, smiled, cracked jokes, letting the ridicule of the newly elected fighter pilots slide off his back. It didn’t make it any better that a few days later Lance realised Keith had scored the top place in the fighter class. Was being hailed as a prodigy. The sight of seeing him and his hero Takashi Shirogane sharing a casual conversation, smiling at each other, really was the last blow he could take. 

The moment Lance stepped foot in his home, the rays of the warm Cuban sun caressing his back, the smell of the garlic knots baking in the kitchen, the scattered toys around the front yard and the creak of the old tyre swing he felt himself start to crumble. His Mamas anxious smile was all that was needed for him to fall completely. Then Lance was crying, like a baby, great heaving sobs into her arms as she cradled him. Telling him it would be alright, that everything was fine. That he had tried his hardest. That she was proud of him. 

The same was repeated when his Papa got home. The squeeze to his shoulder, the ruffling of his hair, the ‘were so proud of you son. You did it!’ unravelling him even as it built him back up. That summer was equally scaring as it was healing. Lance was revitalised. So what if he was cargo class now? He would simply have to become so good a pilot they had no choice but to put him in fighter class! He just needed to try harder! The support of his family, the love they gave him, the faith they had in him, was enough to reignite his passion and give him the boost he needed to keep going. To not give up.

The shame didn’t leave him though. Especially when the new year started and he watched some of classmates, those he was sure were no better nor worse than he was, move off to their separate classroom for the fighter pilots. Hearing through rumours and on listened on conversations all the new material they were being taught. The different simulators they got to the fly. The promise of flying a real ship some time before graduation. All of this just made Lance more determined to try harder. 

Dream: get into fighter class, be awesome, become a pilot, get the girl, fly, be happy.

His continued presence in cargo class, the constant ridicule and laughing at his boasts, the putting down of his flirtations and attempts at friendship all made their mark. Eventually Lance started laughing back. Grinning along with the people who were laughing at him. Letting not just their disregard but the concern of his friends, the scolding’s of his instructors slide off his shoulders. Brazenly waving away the criticism even as it cut deep. Determined not to let them know how it got to him. Eventually it gained him a reputation for being a lazy playboy. A goofball. Someone fun to hang around with but not someone to take seriously as a friend. No need to stick your neck out for someone so obviously doomed to failure. Never mind that he comfortably maintained his lead as top of cargo class.

His new attitude didn’t sit well with the instructors. While the ones teaching the cargo pilots were less aggressive than those teaching fighter class this was still a military school. Any sniff of fun was to be eradicated in the name of discipline. They scolded him for the smallest of things and criticised every small mistake. Lance shrugged it off, quipping back cheekily in response and offering them a winning smile and a crisp salute of ‘no sir, won’t happen again sir!’ when that didn’t get him anywhere. 

If anything their continued close scrutiny just made it worse. Made him want to prove them wrong while also not revealing just how much it meant to him. How much he was trying. How desperately he longed for their approval. Less they take that and use it to hurt him. So he boasted and joked and made fun of the comments with friends afterwards. Smiling along and pretending none of it mattered to him.

The only good thing to come out of the Garrison that year was Hunk. The shy engineering student, who seemed a lot happier now he wasn’t required to fly a simulator himself, had been assigned as his new roommate after Lances previous one dropped out. At first they didn’t know how to act around each other. They were acquaintances but not close friends. One discovery of a similar love of rom-coms, telonovelas, star trek bed sheets and a mission impossibly style heist of the kitchen and they were set for life. Best friends from then on, no questions asked. His brother from another mother. 

Hunk didn’t mind if he talked in Spanish or knocked something over when he got excited. Especially when Lance seemed to finally hit his growth spurt near the end of the year and grew a whole foot in a couple of months. Thin as a rake and having no idea how to control his suddenly elongated limbs. Hunk found it just as adorable as his Mama and got in on the baby giraffe jokes. Which was equal parts annoying as it was endearing. By the end of the year Hunk had his grandmas phone number and was exchanging recipes over email with his Auntie Amelia while talking shop with his Papa and Luis. 

Hunk was another bright light Lance hadn’t known he needed. An ally in the dreary monotony that was the Garrison. In return Lance tried to help with Hunks confidence and anxiety issues. Though he felt it was a little like the blind leading the blind in some respects.

Lances second year passed and it looked like his third year would have been much the same, were it not for the Kerberos mission going missing. For Keith Kogane being let go on some flimsy excuse of a discipline issue. No one knew exactly what he had supposedly done but the rumour mill went wild. It led to Lance finally being upgraded to fighter pilot class. His dream made real even at the expanse of another. Lance wasn’t thinking about that though, could only focus on how his future was finally opening up in front of him. His hard work baring fruit. He and Hunk celebrated that night in the dorm room with some more pilfered kitchen supplies and a very much illegal fondue set. 

It turns out their celebration was maybe a bit too soon. 

Everything that had the instructors breathing down his neck and the ridicule of his classmates in cargo class was emphasised by a hundred in fighter class. Not only was he the new replacement, already seen as inferior by everyone else, but he was replacing the most talented pilot the school had seen in a generation. His instructors were both sure he was a failure of a pilot who wouldn’t amount to anything and yet constantly asking him to live up to Keith’s reputation. It didn’t matter that he was a year behind everyone else, that he was desperately trying to learn how to function the new flight controls during battle simulations with no prior training. A crash was a crash and all it meant was proving them right and infuriating them at the same time.

Iverson was the worst. Constantly in Lances face. Hanging Keith’s shadow above him like a cloud and ridiculing his skills, his parentage and his intelligence in equal turn. The most infuriating thing was that Lance couldn’t say anything back. Not unless he too wanted to drop out with a discipline issue on his record. So Lance bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, pasted on a smile and laughed extra loudly in the cafeteria to drown out the snickering of his class mates. Being put into fighter class now also put him at odds with his previous classmates in cargo class so now he existed between the two, welcome with neither group.

Thank god for Hunk. The shuffle around had meant he followed Lance into the fighter class as the onboard engineer. Something that was not working out so great considering his delicate stomach and Lances less than stellar learning on the job flying. All of this was then made even worse by the introduction of their communications officer. Pidge Gunderson, who was as salty as they were short, seemed to be determined to do everything in their power to piss off their instructors and give Lance an ulcer in the process. Lance couldn’t count the amount of times he had taken the heat for them only to get a brush off in return when trying to befriend the guy. If he didn’t have bigger things to worry about it would probably really get on his nerves.

So yeah, fighter class wasn’t great. The feeling of inadequacy and failure continued to build along with the feelings of guilt and shame. It was enough that for the first time Lance seriously considered giving up on his dream. The rosy tinted future was getting harder and harder to imagine. The road looking more and more bleak.

Dream: survive the Garrison, become a pilot, fly, be happy.

Only Lance was no longer sure that sheer hard work and persistence would be enough to get him there. The days of calling for his Papa to fly him higher for longer under the warm sun were long gone. At that point Lance was half convinced he would never fly at all.

The Voltron happened. They discovered the Blue Lion and Lance finally got to fly. Properly fly. With no regulations or rules to hold him back. Flying with Blue was like nothing else, the sheer joy of it breathtaking. The limitless freedom and infinite possibilities. It all had Lance spilling over with jubilation; an emotion echoed by Blue herself. Whose joy was even sharper and brighter, whose love of the sky stretched even further and the return of flight felt even sweater after so long stuck underground waiting for their pilot. Lance flew like he never had before. No, he didn’t know what he was doing. The Garrison didn’t teach how to fly semi-sentient mecha cats, but it didn’t matter. He was flying! For the first time Lance was truly in the air. A dream come true. 

His joy might have not made it the best journey for his passengers though. The ecstatic corkscrews and loop-de-loops rather less impressive from their point of view. Keith’s sardonic ‘you are the worst pilot ever’ more than proved that. For once Lance didn’t care and didn’t take it to heart. He was just too happy.

Then there was the Galra ship, the worm hole and finding the Princess. Then they were Paladins, saviours of the universe, each with their own lion and capable of forming Voltron. It was a lot, in every respect. They really had to come together and suddenly flight wasn’t just a dream but an everyday thing and it wasn’t just for joy but survival. Those dangerous, exhilarating, horrifying years fighting the Galra Empire were some of the best and worst of Lance’s life. Everything was so crazy for that time. Meeting aliens and fighting giant mutated robot beasts. Saving the whole freaking universe and ending a ten thousand year tyranny. 

Dream: save the entire universe, survive, fly, be happy.

It meant that half of his dream had come true. The thing he had been longing for since he was a small boy. Flight was something he now knew intimately. He’d flown in the atmosphere of a thousand planets, leap frogged through asteroid fields, swerved around exploding stars and parachuted through worm holes. You name it he had probably done it. He was no longer a second place cargo pilot but a saviour of the universe. Revered and admired by billions. His dream, in the most unexpected way, had come true. Lance flew.

Then they won. They actually won! The war was over; for the most part. Zarkon was dead, the day was saved and it was just a case of cleaning up the scattered warlords and establishing peace across the damaged civilisations left behind. Damn near one planet at a time it seemed; but hay, at least they wouldn’t be out of a job any time soon. 

However, Lance was left…adrift. Unsure for the first time. He had got his boy hood dream of flying. Nothing and no one could get between him and Blue and he had no intention of giving them up until he was old and wrinkled and he knew she felt the same. What was his dream now then? Now that he could and had flown to all corners of the universe? What did he want? What did he long for?  
This indecision, this unknown threw Lance for a loop for a long time. He just didn’t know! What did people do when their dreams come true? What happened in the happy ever after? Was flying really all he had wanted his whole life?

The answer was no. Obviously not. Cause this, this right here; this little scrunched face with its button nose and fluffy ears still folded and flattened on the top of their head. This was everything he wanted. This was really a dream come true. The dream that kept on giving, changing. Precious and joyous in a way that couldn’t be measured or described. Lance cradled the precious bundle of life to him gently, feeling their warmth seeping through his shirt. Watching their tiny fragile chest rise and fall with their breaths. Soothing the little crinkle that formed between their brow. 

From the first moment his breath had been stolen from him. Tears brought to his eyes. The depths of the love this one little creature could drawn from him was almost frightening and made all others pale in comparison. Made him realise that the joy of flight, while real and exhilarating, was fleeting and tepid in comparison to the thousands of moments ahead.

This was it. His true dream. The thing he had always unknowingly wanted. Carefully grown and fostered throughout his life. In the cradle of his large loving family, the stagnant loneliness of his teens, the companionship and terror of Voltron. So subtle and simple that he hadn’t seen it. Being a pilot, flying through the air, across the stars had been an aspiration. Only a small part of the full picture. 

Dream: become a pilot, fly, get the girl, have a family, be happy.

He’d done it all. For the most part. Despite the craziness of his life. The unexpected turns, the hardships and the life threatening danger of the last years Lance had got his dream. He was happy. Indescribably, elatedly happy. With the beginnings of his own little family in his arms. He had pilot a ship unlike any other across the entire universe. He was respected, loved and admired on hundreds of thousands of planets. He had even done talk shows for Christ sake!

The only thing that was really different, the only thing to break the mould, the only hitch in the otherwise flawlessly executed plan was…

Strong, scarred arms came to wrap around his waist. Taking Lance by surprise but not causing him any concern. His husband was known for his damned ninja cat feet. Lance was long immune to their sudden appearance. He lent back, feeling the solid chest behind him, the warmth all down his back and the nose nuzzling into his shoulder. The few inches Lance had grown, late as usual, made him too tall for his husband to hook his chin over his shoulder but he didn’t mind. More than happy to smosh their face in-between Lances shoulders blades and leach his body heat that way. Lance found it cute.

‘You’re hogging the baby again,’ came the rough voice. Scratchy from lack of sleep. Lance merely hummed in response, still stuck in his own head. Still entranced by the pink little face. Everything he had ever wanted…

‘Come on. Their asleep, let them rest. Come back to bed before they want morning feeding.’ Keith cajoled from behind, tugging gently at his stomach. No doubt he had got cold, the unashamed heat thief that he was. 

Lance slowly placed the little bundle back in the crib. Taking a moment to smooth along their fluffy hair and ears. Cooing under his breath. They were so adorable! Suddenly he turned, knowing if he looked for one second longer he would go back to starting in awe for another hour. Taking Keith by surprise he swept his husband up in a hug. Face pressed into their black fly away hair. So overcome with love he didn’t know what to do with himself. Just squeezing at tight as he could. Trying to push the love into them through the force of his embrace.

‘Omph!’ went Keith, but he readily returned the embrace. Squeezing Lance just as hard to his firm chest. Arms strong from piloting and swinging his sword. ‘What’s this about?’

‘Nothing, nothing’ replied Lance, pulling back slightly for a kiss. It was chaste but slow and when he pulled away Keith took a moment to open his eyes. Violet pupils hazy and looking as love drunk as Lance felt. Though it could be the sleep deprivation. Newborns of any species were want to keep their parents up at night. 

‘It just…’ Lance continued, ‘it feels like a dream. Like something I would have made up years ago. Being this happy.’

‘Are you crying on me sharpshooter?’ asked Keith with some surprise, voice hushed for the baby but hands sure and soft as they cradled Lance face.

‘Mmm-humm’ Lance agreed, ‘I’m just so happy.’

Keith didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued to look at Lances face and his eyes drank them in in return. Then Keith sighed, a content and happy sound. Something Lance would never have heard years ago and pulled him down for another, more lasting kiss. 

‘Me too.’


End file.
